Law of the Gun
by palomino333
Summary: Kevin and Alyssa's search for shelter brings them to an RPD outpost. What the two soon learn there is that their enemy is not only beast, but man.


Arthur is from the first game. He has no canonical last name, so I made one up for him.

* * *

Kevin Ryman would be a liar if he called his job boring. Between drug busts, shoot-outs, and crowd-control situations, he'd seen his share of heroism, cowardice, and violence, as well as his own portion of wounds. That was part of the reason why he'd wanted to join STARS: he wouldn't have to take a knife to the shoulder because some idiot didn't have his shit together. STARS had an elite reputation. Ironic, Kevin was known as a daredevil, yet he wanted the assurance that he'd be able to walk away in one piece. His want was justified during an extremely vexing night within the week-long cataclysm of the Raccoon City Outbreak.

"You'd think they'd get tired of limping by now." Kevin muttered sarcastically from where he was crouched behind an abandoned car, his faithful .45 propped up on the hood. Alyssa Ashcroft snorted from where she squatted next to him, her wooden pole held to her side. They were watching a procession of zombies going by the alleyway they had chosen as their shelter. Broken glass littered the street, abandoned police cruisers were sprawled in every which direction, and unmoving, half-devoured bodies littered the street. Fires blazed on the upper floors of some of the nearby buildings. They casted eerie, flickering lights on the ground below. Neon lights from shop and café signs burned on. A collection of television sets continued to play the news as usual. Ryman could only hope the others were all right. Alyssa and he had been with them not too long ago.

XXXXXX

The group of eight had initially been split up when Mark Wilkins had considered finding shelter within the city zoo. Its vast location held trees for cover, and few people would have chosen to go there on the night the outbreak had first occurred, since it had been during the week. Only David King and Yoko Suzuki chose to go with him.

Kevin hated to remain in the city, but at the same time, he would rather be near the action than play sleepover with the animals. Cindy was nervous due to the fact that the zoo interior was an isolated location. Jim was afraid of the zombies, but he was outright terrified of waiting for help that might not come. Alyssa had been covering a previous story there, and probably could have cracked the case due to the zoo's theorized vacancy, but doing so would waste her time in collecting details for the much larger scoop already on her hands. George was the only one with a divided opinion. He didn't want to go in case a new development sprung up, but he would also feel guilty in allowing Mark's group to go without anyone around in the case of an injury. Mark quelled the doctor's inner turmoil by firmly reminding him that the three could handle themselves in particularly dangerous situations (for example, Main Street), and that no one was forcing him to go. George gratefully chose to remain.

Mark left with David, who preferred being away from the crowd pandemonium that was occurring outside of the smaller surviving groups, and Yoko, who also concluded that the zoo was a logically sound location due to its layout. Fear set in as the group parted. Would they see one another again? Wilkins shrugged it off. "I'll tell you a little story, kids. Back in 'Nam, a couple of buddies and I got cut off from our unit. We spent all night fighting, with the VC hot on our heels. We thought it would never end in that putrid jungle. Come morning, we took a tumble out of the bushes to find our guys again. Didn't even lose one of them!" Little did the veteran know that he would be reliving that tale, only he and his new buddies would be fighting something of a much more terrifying sort than the Viet Cong. Even after all of those years, Mark Wilkins was still in Saigon.

Kevin and the remaining others, meanwhile, took to the city streets that evening. The shelters they found weren't permanent, but that was to be expected. Fellow human life wasn't scarce, despite the alarming population of man-eaters that the city contained. One woman even gave Jim, whose stomach wouldn't stop growling, her sandwich.

The five's luck ran low, however, when they found themselves running from a swarm of scissor tails that had come crawling out of an open manhole. Its cover had been displaced about a block away. Blind fear kicked in when they found their previous path blocked by a pair of infected carriage stallions. Kevin had always disliked those tours Raccoon City shamelessly copied from other cities like Philadelphia and Atlanta, and now he outright despised them. The horses had deep gouge marks in their sides from where they had broken free of their hitching. Their eyes were rolled white, their tongues lolling. Their bright-colored, although heavily tattered, headdresses contrasted the dark pinks, reds, and yellows of their rotting muscle tissue. Their brown hides had long since lost their sheen, and clumps periodically fell out, along with multiple strands of their manes. Their hooves were cracked, their tooth enamel yellowed. Sickly whinnies came as they reared, foam flying through the air from their mouths.

"Oh come on, man!" Jim screamed in frustration.

"Of all the rotten—" Kevin was already out of earshot, so he couldn't pick up the rest of Cindy's outrage.

"Great, now I'm running again, and I want a Budweiser." The police man muttered as he zigzagged through alleyways, all the while trying to not hit a garbage can, and call attention to himself. He skidded to a halt in front of a tall wooden fence. "Damn. I feel like a little kid again."

The sounds of panting and shoes clattering on the pavement made him whirl around. "Easy, Ryman, it's just me," Alyssa reassured with a slight laugh.

"Well, thank God for that," he replied, mocking a prayer stance.

"You're too kind. Could you be a gentleman, and give me a boost?" The reporter replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

Kevin had the feeling that waiting for the others probably wasn't a good idea. They either had gotten away as well, or were horse and bug feed. He really didn't want to think of the latter. He chivalrously turned himself into a step ladder by getting on his hands and knees. He resisted the urge to cringe when her heels met his back. "Lose some weight, why don't ya?" His comment earned him a nice little lump on the top of his head.

XXXXXX

"Okay, I think that's the last of them. Let's get the hell out of here," Alyssa decided, climbing into the car. Several streets after the incident, and they hadn't seen a soul. They had evidently wandered into zombie territory. Kevin found himself half-ready to say "typical" whenever he thought of it. The good news about that was how some things were left completely unattended, like this coupe, its lock picked by Ashcroft, with the keys under the driver's side floor mat. Their lucky stars were shining again.

Kevin slid into the passenger seat, rolled down the window, and gave the go-ahead. Letting Alyssa drive was a blow to his pride, but it did give him the opportunity to do drive-bys on zombies, which he had to admit was pretty damn fun, given the fact that he was a crack shot.

XXXXXX

"Too slow!" Kevin yelled out the window after gunning down his fourth victim.

Alyssa laughed. "So you have a gal chauffeuring you, the wind in your hair, and a loaded gun in your hand. You're living every fourteen-year-old's dream, Ryman."

He looked over at her. "Nah, I'd need a motorcycle."

She grinned, the passing neon light brightening her smile in a blue glow for a moment. "Ah, the shallow end of the dream pool." As she slipped a stray lock of hair behind her ear and focused on the road again, Kevin couldn't help but think that she looked great while doing so, even with her neck and the edges of her face coated with dirt and dust, and her suit coat splattered with blood splotches. No one said surviving had cleanliness as a requirement.

Another set of lights flashed, but they were off in the distance. Alyssa's eyes flicked to them. "Looks like red and blue."

"There're more," Kevin added as five other sets went off at different intervals. He felt the familiar gripping sensation of wondering if his co-workers and friends were okay. Once again he tried and failed to ignore the crushing inner-knowing that his worry wasn't going to be of much use to him. At three days in, the outbreak was pounding the RPD to a fine pulp. He was happy that at least he'd chosen to stay with people that didn't turn up dead in a heartbeat, as cold as it sounded.

"It's looking like our only option," Alyssa tapped the fuel gauge. It was dangerously near empty.

"Well, what's stopping us?" Kevin challenged. Alyssa's answer came in the forms of the turn signal flashing, and the confiscated coupe turning in the direction of the squadron.

XXXXXX

Although the circumstances were far from favorable, Kevin had to admit that nothing beat the look on Arthur's face when he stuck his head out of the coupe's window. The policeman that had been playing gatekeeper between the aligned sawhorses looked like he'd seen a ghost. Gingerly, he waved the car on. Alyssa parked it in front of the cruisers just before it ran out of gas, and the two disembarked.

The group of cruisers was vaster than they had first thought. Four extras with their lights off were parked within the outer circle of six. They were filled to the brim with supplies from food and empty guns, to flashlights and portable tanks of gasoline, and from blankets to ammo. An armored vehicle completed the circle. It reminded Kevin of Dorian. How was he doing? Was he there with them? Other civilian cars formed an outer wall to the circle, and an ambulance was squeezed into an alleyway that adjoined the circle. While one side of the circle was covered with sawhorses, the other was stacked high with lumber and sandbags. A policeman Kevin didn't recognize was using a high pick-up truck roof as a sentinel's platform on that side. People were everywhere. Some policemen sat on the hoods of cars having a smoke, or a cup of coffee. Some milled around, talking. Guns were loaded, polished, and checked. Wounds were dressed by the paramedics on hand. More supplies were unloaded from the armored vehicle. Flashlights shone, and old songs were sung out of tune. To Kevin, it looked like the RPD's regular interior, only mobilized.

"Ryman! Holy shit, is that you?"

Kevin turned. "Dodge, you pasty-faced son of a bitch!" Dodge ran over to his friend, waving his hand eagerly. A few others joined him.

"We heard you were a goner!" Piped up Kerns, a rather gangly fellow.

"Oh, really?" Kevin folded his arms and threw a glance over in Alyssa's direction to see her standing with one foot propped up on the hood of a nearby cruiser, her head bobbing up and down as she scrawled everything she saw on her notepad. He smirked.

"Yeah. The story was that after the Main Street explosion, you ran off with your drinking buddies, and got into more than you could handle." Kevin's fist collided with Lezzin's face, sending the officer back a good three feet. While Lezzin held his left cheek, and began to swear, Kevin turned back to Alyssa. She was facing him. Having heard the exchange, she gave him a thumbs-up, and turned back to her work.

"Jesus, Ryman! He was just kidding!" Holt yelled angrily. He gripped Kevin's shoulder, and tried to turn him back to face him.

Kevin shoved his hand off. "I don't give a damn! Now, while Pretty Boy here licks his wounds, let me set a few things straight: no, I didn't get in over my head. In fact, I've gotten in and out of jams that would make Main Street look like a walk in the park! Oh, and by the way, if she," he indicated Alyssa, "was just a drinking buddy, her ass wouldn't be here!"

The tension remained. Ryman knew everyone was staring at him, but he couldn't care less. He was proving a point, whether or not he looked like an ass while doing so. Slowly but surely, it all went back to normal, well, as normal as it could get, given the situation. The officers that had greeted him dispersed, murmuring among themselves, and the others turned back to their own affairs, though not without shooting glances at him, and maneuvering themselves away. Kevin cracked his knuckles. He'd dealt with worse at the station. At least the pig-faced chief wasn't there to chew him out.

The sound of a foot hitting ground, accompanied with metal creaking, caught his attention, and he turned to see Alyssa closing her notepad. "I'm not even gonna ask what the hell that was all about," Arthur observed. They turned to face him. Looking relieved to be off-duty, he rolled out his shoulders.

"Lezzin had it coming," Kevin replied with a shrug.

Arthur nodded knowingly. "I'm just hoping you aren't too ticked off that I thought you were a dead man, as well. It's gotten to be pretty much here today, gone tomorrow."

Kevin shook his head. "You at least kept your mouth shut. Thanks for that, by the way."

"What're friends for?" He turned his gaze to Alyssa. "Officer Arthur Crutchley at your service, ma'am."

"Alyssa Ashcroft. Nice to meet you."

"The journalist? Hey, I've read a few of your articles. Nice work," he replied, his eyes widening with recognition.

She smiled wryly at Kevin. "I like him already."

"Gee, I'm honored," Kevin replied, and asked Arthur, "So, what's the 411 here?"

"Well, as you can probably guess, we're inside one of the department's outposts. We've been assigned to hold this street, and evacuate any civilians that need our help," he answered, indicating the area around them as he spoke. Kevin glanced over at Alyssa, who raised her eyebrows at him while placing a hand on her hip. He knew she wasn't going to budge from that spot even if a winch attached to a rescue helicopter was embedded in her coat. She had a story to pursue.

"Who's in charge of this place?" Ryman asked.

"Sergeant Sanford. He's leading a patrol for any other survivors," Arthur rolled his eyes, and Kevin fought the urges to laugh and groan. Sanford hated sitting still, so it was typical of him to do something like this. In the meantime, this would leave the "station" without a leader for a while.

"Who the hell put him in charge?"

The officer shrugged, frowning. "I have no idea, but I hope that changes soon." He switched his attention to Alyssa again. "As soon as the sergeant returns, we'll put in an order for your evacuation."

Alyssa burst out laughing, much to Crutchley's surprise. Kevin, on the other hand, grinned as she retorted, "Yeah, we'll see about that, sweetheart."

XXXXXX

"Any idea what time it is?" Kevin asked from where he leaned against the inner side of a cruiser.

Arthur flipped his wrist over, and read the analog face of his watch. "About half past ten. Where the hell is he?" Kevin felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Sanford, according to Crutchley, had left three hours ago. The encroaching zombies should have made the patrol route rather small to start with.

He heard a pattering, and saw Alyssa, her arms folded, subconsciously tapping her foot on the ground. Her expression was unreadable, but he could clearly see anxiety in her blue eyes. "What're you looking at, Ryman?" She muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

The roars of engines sounded from off in the distance, and quickly grew louder. Sirens whined alongside them. The three looked at one another as the outpost flew into a slight frenzy. Cigarettes were doused, coffee was dumped on the ground, the disposable cups tossed, and conversations were cut short. The two cruisers were running at high speeds. Something was clearly wrong. The gatekeeper at the sawhorses ran out of the way as the cruisers jerked to a halt.

The sergeant was the first to get out. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "We need medical assistance pronto!" The paramedics quickly made their way over as the sergeant and driver of the second car each tugged a bruised and lacerated partner out of the passenger side.

Sanford quickly made his way over to the sawhorses, behind which was gathered an expectant crowd of police men and women, paramedics, and a reporter. "Man your positions! We got a whole slew of 'em coming!" The crowd scattered.

Alyssa smirked at Arthur. "Looks like I'll be here for a while."

The ammo and guns were unloaded from the cruisers and armored cars immediately, but a good reserve amount still remained. Officers clambered on top of both police and civilian vehicles, save those carrying supplies. Three horizontal lines were formed behind the sawhorses. A protective half-circle was created around the ambulance. More sentries occupied the rear, clambering on top of the other pick-ups and high-topped vehicles, as well as the hard-packed sandbag wall. Kevin, Alyssa, and Arthur took the cruiser to the left of the center one closest to the sawhorses. Arthur stood on the hood, Alyssa, sliding her handgun out of her jacket, positioned herself on the trunk, and Kevin balanced himself on the roof. Sanford, standing on the roof of the middle car, was too absorbed in what was happening to notice that Ryman and Ashcroft had joined his ranks.

The would-be fighters broke the silence by shifting their weight and fidgeting in general. Ryman was actually finding this funny. Earlier on he'd been hiding from the zombies, and now he was participating in a shoot-out against them. He also couldn't help but feel a little concerned. How many more fellow cops would cease to be living at the end of this battle? His eyes rested on the front lines. What about Mark, David, Yoko, Cindy, George, and Jim? He looked out toward the distance.

Ryman didn't know how long it had been until he heard the moans. That was when he became aware of the sweat running down his back, and his pounding heart. No matter how many times he saw them, that initial reaction of animalistic terror would not go away. He attributed that to the fact that the zombies' appearances, their tendencies, and their imperfections were so outlandish, that he couldn't get used to them. He hadn't lost yet. They shuffled forward, their arms splayed out, their mouths open, and their expressions vacant.

The officers didn't hesitate with their fire. When the zombies were halfway down the road, the shots rang out. The empty husks that had once been human men, women, and even children, fell in slow motion. Blood splattered, flecks of skin flew, and a few limbs came off.

Kevin grinned as the adrenaline shot through him. It felt great to be on top again. Sanford yelled out orders in tandem with the shots. He was confidently holding his position, his eyes shining with the self-glorification of a job well done. Ashcroft let out an unimpressed sigh. The battle was just getting started, and so a celebration was not needed yet. Her friend seemed to agree with her, since he meaningfully raised his firearm in order to block out the view of the sergeant completely.

Time dragged on. It seemed to be an endless cycle illuminated sporadically by gunfire, flashlights, and streetlights. Fire, reload, breathe, fire again. Kevin wondered just how many there were as he shot dead yet another enemy. The zombies never reached the sawhorses, but they also never ceased in coming. He understood the sergeant's previous words pertaining to their number, but the problem with that was the amount of felled corpses was already quite a quantity in itself. How long was this going to last?

His gun clicked empty. Kevin cursed he reached down and clasped air. "I'll be back in a minute. Try not to miss me," Ryman declared as he leaped down from the cruiser's roof. Arthur and Alyssa let out clipped laughter.

A few running paces brought him to the center cars. Other officers were running to and fro to fulfill their own needs. Doors were yanked open and slammed just as quickly. Kevin dug around the floor of the passenger side in one of the cruisers, and came up with three clips. "It'll do," he murmured to himself as he loaded one. Another object caught his eye on the dashboard, and he swiped it before leaving.

"Bon apetit!" Ryman declared as he hauled himself back on top of the car. He deposited the box of donuts at his feet.

"Wow, that's quite a spread," Alyssa joked as she took a donut from the box.

"You know, I could just take that back."

"Go to hell," she replied before sticking the pastry in her mouth.

It was Arthur's turn to take a donut. "She's quite a woman, isn't she?"

"You have no idea," Kevin replied with a grin as he watched her fire with one hand while taking a generous bite of the foodstuff she held in the other.

The light-hearted moment didn't have long to last. Kevin was about halfway through his second donut when Sanford screamed, "Front lines fall back!" His voice was far more strained than commanding. Ryman shot a questioning glance over at him, and did not like what he saw. Sanford was pale as a sheet, and his whole body quivered. His gun even rattled.

"What's wrong, Sarge?" He called.

Sanford's head swung sharply to look at him. "Don't screw around with me, Ryman! Want me throw you back out on the streets where you belong?"

"Okay, okay! Jeez!" Kevin responded as the sergeant snapped himself back into an authoritative position. As the zombies continued to converge, the police officers nearest to the front climbed on top of the civilian vehicles. "Hey, Art?" Ryman asked.

"Yeah?"

"About how much ammo you think you got?"

"Erm…About one box of handgun rounds."

"What about you, Alyssa?"

"I can manage for right now," she replied fiercely. Kevin suspected she was lying in order to be kept from running an errand.

"Looks like it's your turn."

Arthur nodded, and got down. "Hey, pick up some rounds for me while you're at it!" Alyssa called after him. Kevin smirked.

He was about to take a shot when he realized her eyes were on him. He looked over at her in turn. With a troubled expression on her face she nodded toward the horde. It seemed that no matter how hard the squadron tried, more zombies would join the mass. It was rather disconcerting to see the frontal ranks of the undead beginning to brush up against the sawhorses. Unlike the zombies, however, the humans were limited. Their ammo would run out eventually, and then it would be end for them, but not if they changed their tactics.

"Ryman! Get your head out of your ass, and fire!"

"No!"

"What did you say?" Sanford roared. His brown eyes were brimming with electricity, and his face was red as a tomato, which was extenuated by his jet black hair.

Kevin pointed towards the man-eating army. "This is suicide! If we don't leave now, we're done!"

The sergeant's professionalism vanished. Completely ignoring the fact that the enemy was getting too close to those he commanded for their comfort, he jumped off the hood of his cruiser, stomped up to Kevin's cruiser, and mounted it. Kevin couldn't help but snicker. Irons really knew how to pick his men. He knew that the bulk of the RPD's leadership been heading for the toilet, and Sergeant Hank Sanford was a clear example of that.

Sanford climbed on top of the cruiser, flinging his free hand menacingly out at the officer, who sidestepped his blow. "Kevin, watch!" Alyssa's warning came too late. The side of Sanford's pistol collided with the side of Ryman's cheek, disorienting him. His surroundings slanted and spun as he nearly lost his balance, but he firmly planted his feet at the last moment. The donut box went flying and spilled its contents everywhere when it hit the ground. Gaps resounded from all around.

"You asshole!" Alyssa screamed as she ran over to Sanford, and cracked her pole as hard she could against his side. The blow effectively knocked the wind out of his unprepared body, but he didn't topple. Instead, he seized his assailant's arm, and flung her as far from him as he could. Alyssa landed with a grunt.

Kevin sprung on him in turn, and their combined weight took the two onto the pavement. Sanford groaned as he hit the ground. Ryman took the opportunity to plant his gun in the sergeant's neck. It was quickly joined by three others. It was then that the superior's eyes widened in fear. He knew he was beaten. "Get him out of my sight before I blow out his brains," Ryman ordered. Sanford was promptly escorted away by two officers.

Crutchley shook his head in disgust at the former leader. Kevin went over to Alyssa, who had gotten up to spit after Sanford. "You okay?" He asked.

She smiled bitterly. "I think that question applies more to you than me."

Ryman, still riding the adrenaline high, was telling the truth when he joked, "You can't break me that easily."

"Yeah, especially seeing how there's nothing in your head to break," Alyssa's insult was countered by the relieved expression she gave him.

While Crutchley handed her the handgun rounds she'd "asked" for, Kevin stated, "Well, seeing as how Irons said I could never lead, I'm letting you take this one."

Arthur didn't have to be told twice. He climbed on top of the cruiser, and screamed at the top of lungs, "Quit the attack, and retreat! This outpost is finished!" Relief spread over the officers, who seemed to have been thinking the same. "Take down the sandbag wall!" Arthur commanded, "We can get out of here quicker without it!"

Kevin and Alyssa climbed back on top of the cruiser just as the sawhorses were knocked over. "Those sandbags were stacked pretty thick…" Alyssa recounted, her voice trailing off.

"Well then, let's buy some time, shall we?" Ryman asked, getting right back off, and charging forwards.

The front lines were a sight of panic. Half of the officers wanted to fall back where it was safer, while the other half wished to stay, and hold off the zombies just a little longer. Ryman felt like he was swimming through a sea of people, rather than running. With a sigh of frustration, he decided to get on a car roof, and make it through that way. He hopped from roof to roof eagerly, intending to get closer to the clash.

He took a few shots, taunting his targets as he did so. It was all carefree fun for him until he remembered a few moments later that he had taken a gun to side of the head not too long ago. Ache lanced through the side of his head, and he half-doubled over, gritting his teeth as his eyes squinted. "God damn it!"

A hand roughly shook him. "That's why you don't go running on ahead!" He glanced up to see Alyssa kneeling right by him, and wearing an irritated expression.

"Wait, you roof-hopped in heels?" He asked partly out of surprise, and partly out of want to steer the subject away from her admonishment.

"You're really going to ask me a stupid question like that?" She asked, turning away for a moment to fire on a zombie, who took the bullet between the eyes, and collapsed.

"Well, you said there was nothing inside my head," Kevin replied cheekily. The next moment, he hissed in pain, and pressed a hand to his head, tilting it downwards.

"Oh joy, Arthur and I get to do your job for you," she commented as a loud rattling indicated Crutchley pressing his weight down on the car, as well.

"How much longer?" Kevin asked the fellow officer.

"Not very. With everyone pulling their strength together, we should have the wall down. It's a good thing that we've all been out here amongst ourselves for this long, otherwise we would've had more just climbing over the sandbags, and less working together to knock them down for the vehicles."

After a pause, in which Arthur and Alyssa filled with scattered shots by moving their arms left and right in opposing directions, Crutchley asked, "Are you two coming with us?"

Kevin looked over at Alyssa, and the two shook their heads at each other. There hadn't been any words needed. "Thanks for the offer, Arthur, but we can't. We've still got other people we have to meet up with."

Arthur tipped his hat. "I had a feeling. I'll at least drive you somewhere safe as a thanks for basically saving everyone's neck. Now, do me a favor, and check the back wall again."

Kevin craned his head. "One problem with that, there isn't a wall."

"Well, let's get the hell out of here, then," Alyssa's decisive tone was reinforced by the potshot she took at a zombie whose face had its skin rotting off in clean strips. It looked like it was dressed in war paint. Kevin's throbbing head forced him to take to the ground. He honestly didn't care, so long as he could leave. The trio was the last to leave the front line as the zombies began to crawl under the first car.

XXXXXX

"This place seems good enough," Crutchley observed as he pulled up in front of abandoned Chinese take-out place.

Kevin nodded. "Thanks again, man."

"Don't mention it," Arthur replied.

"So where will you all be?" Alyssa asked, leaning forwards from where she sat on the back seat. Kevin knew she didn't like having to sit behind the cage, but there wasn't much of a choice.

"The outpost on Seventh Street and Anderson Road. We'll regroup there." Arthur shuddered. "I don't know what Sanford did to get that many zombies on his tail, but I know he's gonna pay for it."

"Well, thank God for that," Kevin replied, folding his arms behind his head and leaning back slightly. He was starting to feel better after receiving some aspirin from the paramedics. He now sported a rather ugly-looking bruise on his head. As much as he hated to admit it, he'd gotten lucky that Sanford wasn't a big guy.

"The sun still rises. Thanks for the ride, Officer Crutchley. You'd better buy a subscription to my next newspaper after we get out of this hellhole," Alyssa demanded.

"What's it gonna be?" He asked, adjusting his mirror so that it reflected her smirk behind the cage as she opened the door.

"_The New York Times_. Big leagues." The door slammed behind her.

"With this sort of story, she'll be a shoo-in," Arthur commented, resting his chin on his hands, which were lying one on top of the other on the uppermost part of the steering wheel. Kevin knew he had to go, but he didn't want to. He was in one survivors' group, and Arthur was in another. The vein in his throat throbbed as he took a long look at his friend, wondering if he would ever see this man again. When Arthur turned his gaze to meet Kevin's, he realized that he felt the exact same way. Brotherhood, as strong a bond it was, formed a heartrending noose whenever it was stretched to its limits.

Kevin punched Arthur in the shoulder before opening his door to leave. "Be careful out there, man."

"Same to you!" He replied before the door swung shut.

Kevin joined Alyssa on the sidewalk in front of Zhu Yun's 24-Hour-Take-Out as Officer Arthur Crutchley backed the cruiser up, and zoomed out of sight. Honking was out of the question, so the officer chose to wave instead. Ryman felt the senses of cold and loneliness build up in him at watching his comrade go. That faded away, however, when he turned to Alyssa, and saw her smiling at him, her arms folded against the slight breeze that was kicked up.

He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in, and felt as if a great weight was released from his shoulders. The RPD had lived to fight another day. The men and women in uniform blue slowly trickled away from his mind to be replaced by the more individualized colors of his seven fellow survivors.

Kevin moved toward her. The kiss was shorter than he'd wanted, but that didn't mean it wasn't without worth. If anything, Kevin Ryman was grateful to be standing on this empty block with Alyssa Ashcroft as his world returned to its original state without Irons' selected leaders, and their utter incompetence. Here he was in the world of common sense and group democracy once more. Above all, however, he was with her when he did this.

Alyssa drew out, and went to unlock the shop's front door. Kevin dutifully took out his gun to watch her back. After a little rest, they would be off to find their six companions. Mark's previous words resounded in Kevin's head, and for once, he found himself in agreement with the old coot's philosophy. Such was life (or what remained of it) in Raccoon City.


End file.
